Does Anyone Know Where I Can Get a Decent Set of Boundaries?
Used is fine, as long as they still work most of the time
My Kingdom for a decent set of boundaries.
Notice I did not say good. Decent is good enough.
Even if I can’t get a tight seal, at least I can hopefully get some sort of cut-off point. This is where I end and you begin. This is where I stop and you start.
And especially, this is when I stop being Wonder Woman, the Miracle Worker, and Aladin’s Genie all rolled into one.
Especially that last one — the genie.When have the words,your wish is my commandever crossed my lips from the inside out?
Truth be told, they don’t have to if my body language and my actions say it, right?
If I in fact do everything, or what feels to me like everything, doesn’t it amount to the same thing?
What does a decent set of boundaries even look like?
Would I recognize them if I saw them? Or would they be so strange and foreign, I’d pass them by without noticing that’s what they were.
Shopping for Possibilities
I’m online checking out a head-to-toe suit of metal armor topped with one of those helmets that has a pull-down visor. Something to hide in like a cave and never have to come out. Just open the lid for food and water.
It seems impractical and rather expensive. The cheapest one on eBay is $3K. Ooops. Besides spring is here. It’s going to be in the 80s this week.
And how the heck do you go to the toilet in one of these things? There might be a trapdoor or visor in front for the guys, but I’m not built that way. There may even be one in the back, but my aim is not all that accurate.
How about the Michelin Tire Man’s duds?
Now there’s a class act!If I could get inside all those tires and hide, that would be great. But could I move? Or breathe? The good news is, no one could hurt me. The bad news is, someone might jack me up to a truck or SUV and I’d be crushed. Kinda feels like that already, so maybe —
Or maybe not. How about —
Teflon Anyone?
Something like President Reagan’s Teflon effect. No matter what they threw at him, it didn’t stick. Trump has some of that same juju. He was guilty of just about everything and got away with all of it, so far anyway.
I want what they’ve got — the power of deflection.
I imagine that as some shiny reflective mylar-ish fabric bodysuit. Everything that comes at it bounces right off. Either right back where it came from or perhaps, like a billiard ball, deflected at a predictable angle.
That’s for me.
Only problem is, form-fitting bodysuits don’t flatter me. They make me look fat. I don’t want to look fat. I want to look tough. And mean. With a big scowl on my face. And narrow slits or eyes. A countenance that says, don’t even think about it.
Another problem is, I don’t do mean. My face does not know from scowl. My eyes are warm and inviting. I purposely smile to ward off wrinkles. Not that it’s all that effective, but frowning would make it even worse.
I know, I know, smiles invite people to talk to me and ask me to do stuff.
My mouth doesn’t know how to say NO.
Every time I put my tongue in the place on my upper palette to get the nnnn sound, it slips over to the yyyy position. And the yyyy position is the same position a mouth needs to be in to vocalize the letter ‘e’.
So, before I can get back to ‘n,’ I’m two-thirds of the way to yes. All that’s left is the hiss. And yes it is. Yes, yes, yes. Whatever you need. I’ll do my best. Happy to help. Model a positive attitude for others who don’t seem to be getting it.
Instead, they seem happy to let me do all the heavy lifting. I’m pooped. I want to go to sleep. Instead, I crawl out of bed and do the next thing and the next and the next.
The sad thing is, most folks don’t even know what all that is.
Maybe I should start telling them. And cross-training. Which takes so long. It’s faster and easier for me to do the thing myself than train someone else to do it. Which just reinforces my conundrum.
As long as I keep doing, I get to keep doing.
So why do I keep doing it? Maybe I’m afraid to let go. Of what? Of control? Of feeling needed? Important? Crucial?
Does asking for help mean I am weak or inadequate? Do I relish being Wonder Woman or Super Girl? I’d look hideous in that red, blue, and yellow costume. Not to mention fat.
But I’ve always wanted to fly.
And if I could fly, I could fly away — Whenever I saw them coming with a question mark in their eyes and a request on the tip of their tongue, I could take a running leap and just — fly — away.
Where do I sign up for that master class?
Marilyn Flower writes humor to laugh the changes she wants to see and make. She’s the author of Creative Blogging: Ninja Writers Guide to Character Development and Bucket Listers, Get Your Brave On. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!